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Rad shakes his head.  “No one outside of the FBI was aware of our true reason for being involved with the Zephyrs.”

“So, Carly…” I trail off.  I wonder how she would feel if she knew who my brother really was.  Would she feel the same level of betrayal I did? Or would she just shrug and continue on, unfazed?

“She knows now.  But, no.  She had no clue.  You need to talk to Roman, Willa.”

“I don’t see him knocking on my door, Conrad,” I throw out, my words full of attitude. 
Jeez, I can’t even spend five minutes speaking about the man before he starts making me behave irrationally.
 

“I don’t see you chasing him down either.”

Damn, he’s got me there.

“
I’m
not the one who lied to
him.
  I didn’t create an alter ego and pretend to be a completely different person for over a fucking
year
, did I?  That wasn’t me.  I was just me.  Plain old Willa fucking Burke who is as naïve as she is gullible, because she fell for the act of a fucking cop.  He isn’t even an actor.” I bark a humorless laugh.  “Or maybe he is.  You know, I could never be sure, because fuck knows who he really is.  Maybe the whole FBI agent thing is an act too.”

“For fuck’s sake, Willa, would you listen to yourself?  Jesus Christ, you’re acting like a fucking idiot.”  He stands abruptly, steam practically pouring from his ears.  His hands go to his hips and he glares at me.  “Act your fucking age and see this situation for what it actually is.  Roman had a job to do.  Informing you of his real identity could have resulted in a lot of people ending up dead – namely
me
and
him.
  He didn’t lie to hurt you, he didn’t keep you in the dark to make fun of you, and he certainly didn’t lead you on with his feelings toward you.  The only thing he kept from you was his real name and profession.  Jesus Christ, in the grand scheme of things, does it really even matter what a person’s job is?”

“That’s not the point,” I try to inject, but he talks over me.

“Stop being so fucking self-centered.”

“Tell me what you really think,” I mutter sarcastically.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you looked at this from another angle? From the way it
really
is? Instead of whatever bullshit scenario you’ve cooked up in your head.”

“You know, you’re not the same brother I remember. 
My
brother would have kicked any guy’s ass for hurting me, regardless of the reason.”

“And who says I didn’t kick his ass? Twice.”

“You did?” I gape in disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I did.  Fuck.  You’re my sister.  He hurt you.  That means he gets his ass kicked.  But it doesn’t mean I can’t see a situation for what it really is.  And it doesn’t mean I won’t come and set you straight if I know you need it.  It kills me to admit it, but he’d be good for you.  Good
to
you.  Sometimes you just need your ass kicked too.  Metaphorically, of course.”  He smiles.

If my life was a romance novel, Roman would have come for me.  He would have confessed his undying love for me, and we would have lived happily ever after.

But this is real life, not some fairytale.  My brother is right.  It’s time I stopped feeling sorry for myself and went after what I really want.

What I really want is Roman.

Willa

I check my watch again.

5:09.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way inside the large apartment complex in Denver.  Rad gave me Roman’s address before he left my house two weeks ago after staying the night.

I have had two weeks to muster my courage. 

I step inside the elevator and press the button for the seventh floor.  Twenty seconds later, the doors open with a chime and I exit, turning left.  At the end of the hallway, on the right hand side, is a door.  Behind that door, lives the love of my life.

I’m not sure how long I stand in front of it, staring unseeing.  I reach out and trace the grooves in the wood, mentally preparing myself for what is to come, silently replaying the words I’ve been practicing for the past two weeks.

It has been almost four months since I have seen him, but not a night goes by where those soulful deep brown eyes don’t haunt my dreams. 

I pull my hand back, curl it into a fist, and knock on the door before I lose my courage.

He opens it immediately, as if he has been standing right behind the door the entire time, just waiting for me to make the first move.

“Willa.”  Is that relief I detect in his tone?

Or maybe that’s just me, getting my hopes up from the get-go.

“Hey, um, Oak. I mean, Roman.” 
Fantastic fucking opening line, Willa!

He smiles, his luscious lips parting slightly to expose those white teeth that contrast so starkly against his chocolate skin, and my heart skips a beat.

God, I’ve missed him.

“Come in.”  He steps back, allowing me to pass.  He closes the door behind me and then leads the way into the vast living area of his home. 

His place is beautiful.  It’s a large, open plan.  The décor is
manly chic
but there is also an undertone of softness that really brings it all together, giving that homey feel, rather than a bachelor pad vibe.

His furniture is all dark wood, while the carpets are a plush cream.  The walls are cream, too, with deep red accents.

I sink into his couch and almost groan. 
Oh, man, it’s like sitting on a cloud.

Directly in front of me is a television about the size of a small African country, and below it, in a glass fronted, dark wood cabinet is a DVD collection that would rival Blockbuster.

His thumb runs along my cheek softly and I startle.

“Sorry,” I murmur, embarrassed by my obviousness in ogling his apartment.

“God, you’re beautiful.  I’ve missed you, Willa,” he admits, his voice low and husky.

I swallow.  “I’ve missed you, too.”

Spurred on by my admission, he takes a deep breath and speaks, his sure, deep voice filling my ears.

“My name is Roman Tyrone Drake.  I’m twenty-nine years old, and I live in this apartment that I’ve owned for the last five years.  My mother’s name is Cynthia, and my father’s name is Raymond.  They’ve been married for thirty-three years and still live in the home I grew up in.  I’m an only child, because my mother had enough trouble conceiving me.  I’ve been with the FBI for over six years. 

“While my parents are proud of me for following my dreams and being successful in my chosen career, they also hate it because it scares them.  Particularly my mother.  Because of that, I make an effort to visit home more times each year than I probably need to, but it reassures her, so I do it. 

“The last serious relationship I was in ended when I returned from my first undercover job.  I came home after being off the grid for six months, to find my girlfriend of eight months in bed with another man.  That was more than five years ago.  Since then, I’ve dated, but I’ve never let things develop past casual with those girls because of my job.  You’re the first woman in a long-ass time that I’ve wanted to be serious with, that I’ve wanted to connect with on a deeper level.  You’re the first woman who has ever made me question my commitment to my job.

“I hate anchovies.  My favorite food is breakfast food.  I don’t have a favorite color, or a favorite song.  When I have time to watch television, I like watching documentaries on Discovery channel.  When it comes to movies, I like actions and comedies.  Anything with Martin Lawrence and Will Smith in it is a winner for me.”

He pauses, and my mind is still spinning with all the information he just openly laid out, but one part keeps repeating over and over:
You’re the first woman who has ever made me question my commitment to my job.

I’m not sure if he meant that as a good thing or a bad thing.

“I think that’s about all there is to know about me.  If there’s anything specific you want to know, just ask me and I’ll be upfront.  I know I fucked up, Willa, but I hope you realize I didn’t have any other options.  Telling you would have meant jeopardizing the entire case, and putting lives at risk.”

I lean over and place my index finger against his lips.

“Shhh,” I hush softly.  “I get it.  I understand.  I know it took me a little while to come around, but I totally get it now.”  His warm breath skates across my finger and sends tingles shooting up my arm.  “Thank you for telling me all that stuff.”

He grins.  “You’re welcome.”

“I’m the first woman who’s ever made you question your commitment to your job?”

He nods.  “I thought I’d be an undercover agent until the day I died.  But now?” He shakes his head before continuing, “I’d rather spend time building a reality with you, than building lies as part of my job.”

Holy shit. 
A massive swarm of butterflies takes up residence in my stomach, and I can’t hide the giant grin that spreads across my face.

“Are you saying you want to be with me, Roman Tyrone Drake?” I tease.

He doesn’t reply.  He reaches over and pulls me into his lap.  I move to straddle him and when my butt settles in his lap, I instantly feel him hardened beneath me.  My sex throbs.  It’s been too long since I felt him inside me.

“If you’ll have me,” he says softly.

To say no right now would mean denying myself of the thing I want most in this world.  Despite everything, I want him.  No, I
need
him.

I nod my head.

His lips crash into mine and he swallows the moan that was working its way up my throat.  His warm tongue invades my mouth and I relish the taste of him.  A taste I have craved, and so desperately missed.

“I’m sorry my brother kicked your ass…twice,” I say, panting as our kiss slows.

He pulls back slightly and opens his eyes.  “Kicked my ass?” he scoffs.  “Woman, your brother wouldn’t know how to kick my ass if he tried!”

Rather than reply, I kiss him again. 
His lips are so delicious.  Firm, yet soft and plump.
  My nipples strain against my bra.  My breath comes out in short pants.  My face feels flushed, and I can’t control the slight rocking that my hips are doing.

His meaty hands grip my ass and he squeezes, pulling me further into him.  Then, all of a sudden, he stands.  My legs wrap around his waist while my arms clutch his neck. 

“Need inside, Willa,” he rumbles.

“Yes.”

My top comes off, shortly followed by my pants.  He flicks the clasp of my bra and it falls open, exposing my breasts.  His fingers trail down my stomach to my hips and then his fingers dip under the waistband of my panties before he slides them down my legs and off my ankles.

“Fuck, you make my mouth water,” he murmurs, his eyes raking over my body, blazing with heat.

“You’re overdressed,” I reply, cocking an eyebrow challengingly.

He reaches behind his neck, and I watch in fascination as his biceps bulge.  Then, it’s time for my own mouth to water, because he slowly pulls his shirt over his head, gradually exposing, inch by inch, his muscular torso.

I lick my lips and my eyelids droop.  My chest rises and falls rapidly with my increased breathing.

He tosses the shirt and his fingers go to the waistband of his jeans.  He pops the button and lowers the zipper.  His cock springs free as his jeans fall to the ground, pooling at his ankles.

Hard as a rock.

His fist closes around the shaft and he strokes up.  A bead of pre cum emerges from the tip and he uses his thumb the swirl it over the head before sliding his hand back down his length.

“Spread your legs, Willa,” he growls.

My thighs instantly part.

“Further.”

I open wider, exposing myself to him fully.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says in wonderment.

He kneels on the edge of the bed and dips his head.  I close my eyes as anticipation thrums through my veins.  His warm breath hits my skin right before his tongue licks through my center.  I moan, deep and low, clutching the sheets with my hands as he continues feasting on me, bringing the most delicious pleasure I have ever known.

His lips close around my clit and he sucks it into his mouth while inserting two fingers deep inside me. I feel them curl up as he rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves inside me.  I can’t hold back any longer.  I whimper as my orgasm radiates through me, sending me flying off the edge, into the abyss of total pleasure.

My body is still shuddering when he climbs over me.  He lines his cock up and slams home in one deep, hard, fast thrust.  His hips slam into mine and my back bows off the bed.

“Roman,” I whimper, feeling my stomach tighten again.

“Come for me, baby.  Squeeze my cock with your tight little pussy.”  His lips find my neck and he sucks my pulse.

He twists my nipple between his fingers, almost to the point of pain, but not, and it is my undoing.   My body clenches around him, milking his cock until he is left with no other option but to explode deep inside me.

He stills, dropping his forehead onto mine, groaning, while his cock jerks sporadically.

“Fuckin’ missed you, baby.  Missed this.  Missed
us
.”

“Me too,” I whisper.  “Me too.”